S4 E11 Holy Night
by JDPostEpisodeChallenge
Summary: A Post episode by StarbuckMeggie
1. Chapter 1

_December 24, 12:03 am_

I sigh in frustration. I rest my head in my hands, my elbows on my knees. My beer sits unopened and growing warm on my coffee table, a puddle of condensation growing around it to almost unmanageable proportions.

I blew it. I've completely and utterly blown it.

Everything is ruined.

 _December 23, 7:38 pm_

Donna left. I can't believe Donna left. Not without saying goodbye, or Merry Christmas, or even "go to hell." Nothing. She's just gone.

Gone to shack up with _Jack._ Jack who's not even that good looking. So he has a military career—so what? Donna's standards are too low—she thinks if a guy smiles at her she has to give him her heart. Sweet notion, but I have to watch her mope every time one of them breaks her heart, and I don't care for it. She deserves so much better than these idiots who clearly don't know how to appreciate the total package when it arrives at their doorstep.

The same thing's going to happen with Commander Wonderful. She's not going to want to believe it, but he's got trouble written all over him. I bet he has a girl in every port, each of them waiting for him to come back around, all of them sure he's the one.

What kind of gentleman suggests taking his new girlfriend to the Washington Inn of all places over Christmas? Just because it's not my holiday doesn't mean I don't understand the significance for other people. He's known her not even two months, and I know they haven't been seeing each other really more than a couple of weeks, and he suggests they go away to some secluded hotel for the holiday? Does he not care about her family that never gets to see her? Doesn't he have family of his own? If he knew her better, he'd know she's not capable of turning down an offer like that. He doesn't know she doesn't want to make him unhappy, so she'll agree to miss time with her family to so he can keep tabs on her.

Why would she want to be with a loser like that anyway?

Of course, I'm just speculating, but based on what I know of the guy, I think I'm making a pretty good assessment. Look how hard I had to convince him just to give Donna a call. Anyone who needs to be finessed that much to go out with a beautiful, intelligent woman can't have a whole lot going on upstairs. It's not very trustworthy. Actually, it's downright suspicious. Why the hell _would_ he need that much convincing? Donna was very clearly into him and it wasn't until I'd spoken to him multiple times that he was willing to even call her.

What a loser.

I come to a halt, realizing I've been pacing my office like a caged tiger. _This_ is why I'm always vetting the yo-yos Donna dates—because they're all yo-yos. She has zero taste in men and she doesn't know how to gauge a good guy from a sleaze. She just always seems so grateful when a man pays her the slightest bit of attention that all of her good judgment flies right out the window. She would never admit it, but I know she's grateful when I give her a reason to cut her dates short. She likes to fight me on it and call me domineering and pushy, but having me as her excuse to get out of a boring date has worked for her on more than one occasion.

Really, I'm doing her a favor.

I walk over to the window, pressing my head against the cold glass. The snow is coming down pretty hard now. We haven't seen snow like this in December in…hell, I don't know. I wouldn't even know it was December if not for all the lights and decorations everywhere.

Still…it looks bad out there. I don't know how the helicopter she's taking is even going to get through this. I sigh, feeling defeated as I watch my breath fog up the glass. I just can't believe she wouldn't even say goodbye to me. I couldn't have been hard to find.

I blow out another breath, tilting my head in confusion. I wait for the fog on the glass to clear as I squint out into the distance. Is…is that a helicopter? Sitting on the ground just outside the gates?

Is it possible she hasn't left yet?

No—that has to be a different helicopter.

Unless…

I press my face to the window, as if that will help me see better, and I spot a figure on the other side of the fence, head down against the snow. I'm positive that's the same jacket Donna was wearing earlier. It didn't look at all practical for the weather today, but what do I know? She's from Wisconsin. Maybe this weather is practically summer where she's from.

I blink my eyes a few times, trying to make sure I'm not imagining anything, but I can still see her—someone—out there. That _has_ to be her. I can see the ridiculously oversized duffle bag slung over her shoulder. What'd she need a bag so big for, anyway? Was she planning on staying for a week?

Big ass duffle bag like she was planning on wearing a lot of clothes while she was there.

I close my eyes and shudder from head to toe. I can _not_ go there.

My eyes fly open and I'm suddenly running down the hall. I vaguely see a few people turning to gape at me as I go, but I ignore them. It's not that unusual for someone to be running down the halls of the West Wing, at least not so much that they haven't seen it once or twice before, probably even today.

I burst outside, pausing for a moment as the cold hits me like a punch to the stomach; I wonder for half a second if I should go and grab my jacket but I push that thought aside almost as quickly as it appears. There's no time for that.

I slam through the gates, the evening guard looking up in surprise at the commotion, though apparently he doesn't feel the need to see what the problem is because he doesn't follow me out. I run down the sidewalk in the last direction I saw Donna, putting one arm up to block my face against the driving snow. I squint my eyes, but I can't see her at all. I couldn't have been imagining her. I couldn't have been.

My feet slide under me a little and I cringe as I have to slow down so I don't fall. I don't have time for this. I look around again, relieved to see the chopper is still sitting there, lights blinking, but blades stationary. She's not gone yet.

I push forward, finally coming to the edge of the White House grounds, and grab the fence as I pant. "Donna!" I try to yell, though it comes out more like a wheeze. "DONNA!" I take a few more steps but have to bend over for a second, catching my breath. I'm sure _Jack_ wouldn't have this problem. I'm sure _Jack_ is in tiptop shape.

That thought spurns me on; I straighten my spine and start moving again. This time I can see her, though, her pale hair shining like a beacon. She's handing her duffle bag off to someone on the helicopter. Damn it! " _DONNA!_ "

I can see whoever it is on board gesture over Donna's shoulder and suddenly she turns, her mouth dropping open in surprise. She hurries over to me, concern etched all over her face. I breathe heavily, trying to catch my breath; she puts her hand on my arm, squeezing it.

"Josh?" she asks, her voice tight and high. "What's wrong? Did something happen? I thought Leo said—"

"Don't go," I wheeze, trying to stand up straight.

"What?"

"Don't go," I repeat, my voice getting stronger.

Her face fills with panic. "Josh, what happened? Did you…are you?..."

Understanding comes over me as I get what she's trying to say and wave my hand dismissively. "No, Donna—I'm fine. I just…" I look around, looking for somewhere a touch more quiet for us to talk. I finally spot a small patch of snow-covered bushes, probably not entirely tall enough to conceal us, and take her hand, pulling her toward them.

"Josh, where's your coat? You're going to freeze!"

"I'm fine," I answer dismissively. I can't even feel the cold right now, and I hope that means I'm too amped up and not that frostbite is already setting in. "Come with me."

She doesn't protest as I drag her off, though I can actually feel her bite her tongue. She probably wants to wait until she has my undivided attention before she yells at me. Well, she can yell all she wants after I've said what I need to say.

I finally get us to a more or less secluded spot and pivot to face her. The look on her face is unreadable, which is fair. She probably has no idea what to think of my behavior right now and can't land on rage or confusion until she can get a grip on my mental state.

"Josh, what the hell is going?" she explodes, dropping my hand. "What are you doing out here like this? Where's your coat? You're going to catch your death in this weather. What the hell is happening? Did—"

"Don't go to the Washington Inn," I interrupt, and she actually takes a tiny step back, startled.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't go to the Washington Inn," I repeat, my voice nearly begging. "Don't spend your Christmas with Jack."

"Where do you want me to spend my Christmas?" she asks dryly. "Here at work? Do you suddenly have some obscure reference in a briefing memo from the previous administration that you need by tomorrow and I'm the only one who can possibly find it?"

"Of course not." I reach out and grab her hands again, relieved when she doesn't pull away, though I note that she's not wearing any gloves. "Spend your Christmas with me."

She sighs, dropping her head. "Josh…"

"Please. Donna, please. Don't go with him. Stay here with me."

She shakes her head, looking back up at me, an odd look of disappointment on her face. "Josh, you've got to stop this."

"Stop what?"

"Sabotaging every date I go on."

"I do not!" I exclaim indignantly, even though I know it's true. "You hardly know this guy and you're going away with him? Don't you think you need some more time before you do this whole…thing?"

"I'm an adult, Josh," she answers, the expression on her face hardening. "If I want to go away for a few days with a nice man, I'm allowed."

"He's gonna break your heart," I insist, tightening my hands on hers.

"You don't have to protect me, you know. You're not my big brother."

My stomach caves in, her words hitting me like a physical blow. Is that what she thinks I think of her? Is that how she thinks of me?

"I know I'm not. I don't think of you like a sister. Jesus, Donna!"

"Then what is your problem?!"

"Stay here with me," I beg again, stepping closer to her. "Be with me."

She starts violently, staring at me in shock. "Be…with you?"

"Be with me." I bring her hands up to my chest, holding them tightly. "Be mine."

"Yours?" she whispers.

"Yeah. Don't go. Stay with me."

"Josh…I can't…"

"Yes, you can. You can do anything you want." I take another step closer; we're almost nose to nose.

A loud noise fills the air, wind almost knocking us over, and I realize the helicopter is starting up. It seems to jar Donna out of her trance. "Josh, you can't do this to me. Not now," her voice growing louder to be heard over the engines

My heart hammers in my chest and I'm sure she can feel it. "Donna, I love you!" I yell.

Her eyes grow as wide as saucers; the corner of her mouth quirks up so quickly that I'm pretty sure I've imagined it. "No you don't!"

"No, I really do!"

"You just don't want me to go to Jack!"

I release one of her hands and cup her cheek, vaguely aware of how absurd all this is with me yelling something like this at her. "I _love_ you!"

"Josh…"

"Please, don't go! Spend Christmas with me! Spend New Year's with me! Spend all the holidays with me!" It could be wishful thinking, but I swear she's wavering just a little. An idea hits me out of the blue—it's crazy, completely insane, but I know it's what's right. "Marry me!"

Her mouth falls open, completely astonished. " _What?!_ "

"Marry me!" I shout, feeling myself grin from ear to ear. "I want to marry you!"

I think I've rendered her speechless, not something that happens a lot. I take another chance and lean in, hovering near her mouth for a few seconds before I press my lips to hers. To my infinite relief, she responds immediately.

I think my heart is going to burst out of my chest— _I'm kissing Donna!_ We've never done this before and maybe there are better places to be doing this for the first time, but…we're here, and it's happening. I've never felt anything like this. All sense of time and logic slip away as our arms wrap around each other, the noise and the snow and the cold slipping away as we sink into oblivion.

I never want to come back to earth.

I feel her hands on my chest a split second before she pushes me away.

Then she slaps me.

My hands comes up to my cheek as I stare at her, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath for the second time tonight. If looks could kill, I would be a dead man right now.

"You can't do this, Josh! You can't come out here and say things like that all because you don't want someone else to have me! That's not for you to decide! You can't tell me you love me because you're afraid I'll love someone else! _It's not fair!_ Jack is a nice guy and me being with him doesn't mean I can't still work for you!" My mouth opens to protest but she ignores me, shoving me again. "You think you can run out here and _propose_ and I'll just drop everything? You suddenly want to be with me and I'm supposed to come running?"

"That's not what this is!"

"I don't believe you! I don't believe anything you have to say to me!" She swipes at her face and my heart constricts painfully—I made her cry.

I reach out for her, wanting nothing more than to take away the pain. "Donna…"

"No! Don't touch me!" She wipes face again and backs away. "I have to go."

I can hardly hear her over the sound of the helicopter's engines, but suddenly she's running away from me, ducking instinctively as runs to the door. She doesn't look back as someone helps her inside.

A few minutes later, she's gone.

I think I'm dying.

 _December 24, 12:04 am_

I've lost Donna for good. Before all this, I might have had a chance one day. It's not like she was ever going to marry Jack—she was going to spend a few months with him at most and then he'd do something stupid to ruin it and I'd be there to help pick up the pieces of her broken heart.

I could have waited. I didn't have to spill my guts to her tonight, not as she was leaving to meet up with her boyfriend.

Except…I couldn't have waited. I _had_ to tell her. I don't want to see her heartbroken again. I don't want to watch her go through the grieving process where she eats tubs of ice cream and emphatically states that all men are scum and starts to doubt her self-worth because why couldn't she hold onto _this_ one? That's the worst part; watching her question herself, like she's at fault because the men she dates are idiots. Personally, I'm relieved that none of these guys have been _the one_ , but that doesn't mean I like to watch her get crushed every few months, whether it's after one date or ten. These guys don't deserve her.

I rub the heels of my hands against my eyes. Obviously, I don't deserve her, either, not after the way I treated her tonight.

I hear someone knocking on my neighbor's door, and I wonder briefly why they have visitors this time of night. Of course, it's now Christmas Eve and they all probably have various friends and family coming over to celebrate.

I hear the knocking again and drag my head up, eyeing my door suspiciously. I hear the knock again and I'm on my feet. Whoever is on the other side picked the wrong apartment to harass. I'm not at all in the mood and they're going to know _all_ about it.

I yank open the door, whatever it was I going to say dying on my lips as I see Donna standing there. She stares me, her expression unreadable once again. "Hi," I manage to breathe, not sure if I'm actually awake.

She stares at me for another few seconds before she gestures impatiently. "Are you going to let me in?"

I step aside immediately, holding my arm out to welcome her in, and she brushes past me. Her duffle bag lands on the floor with a thud. She pulls off her winter coat, the silly snowflake sweater she's had on all day suddenly making my knees weak. Still, she says nothing, keeping her back to me.

"What are you doing here?" I ask incredulously, closing the door cautiously. "Not that I'm not happy to see you—"

"I broke up with Jack."

I freeze in my tracks. "What?"

"I got to the Washington Inn, and I was ready to just relax and enjoy myself. Jack was waiting for me as I landed and he smiled when he saw me—" I make a face at that, not wanting to think about Donna with Jack in any capacity— "and he said 'Hello,' and I said, 'I can't see you anymore.' Then I got back on the helicopter and left. I apologized first—he went to so much trouble for all this—but…yeah, I left."

My heart is pounding so hard right now I think it's going to explode. My stomach is churning, and it's entirely possible that I'm going to be sick. "Why?"

She finally turns to face me, smiling almost sadly. "You really have to ask that?"

"I really need to hear it," I whisper, taking a tentative step toward her.

"I couldn't be with him anymore. It would have been a lie, and even though you don't seem to think much of him, Jack is a good man and I didn't want to do that to him."

"Donna…"

"Yes."

I cock my head in confusion, taking a step toward her. "Huh?"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes."

"I don't get it."

She rolls her eyes, though I can see her usual humor and sparkle returning, and moves toward me. "Ask me again."

"Ask you again?"

"Yeah."

"What am I asking you?" We're toe-to-toe now, our bodies nearly pressed together, and I feel so confused. Two minutes ago I was wallowing in self-pity, wondering if I was ever actually going to see Donna again. Now she's in my apartment, telling me she's broken up with Jack and my head is spinning.

"I guess you didn't really ask before, did you? Maybe it was more of a demand." The light bulb over my head is starting to flicker. "Or a request? Still—"

"Will you marry me?" I blurt out, bringing my hands up to rest on her hips, keeping my touch light so if I'm reading this entirely wrong, she'll be able to escape quickly.

She smiles, though; slowly at first, until the grin nearly takes over her face. Her eyes fill with tears suddenly and her arms wrap around my shoulders. "Yes," she repeats in a whisper, and I suddenly get why she kept saying "yes."

The bottom drops out of my stomach and I feel lightheaded. "You're gonna…you'll marry…we're getting married?"

"If you think you still want me."

I can't help it—I laugh. I tighten my hold on her and laugh like a madman for a few long seconds. I know I'm dreaming. I'm sure of it. This isn't happening.

I just hope I never wake up.

I lean in and press my lips to hers, and she kisses me back with more enthusiasm than before. She's warm and solid in my arms, her body pressing against mine in ways it never has before. This kiss is even better than the first.

"Am I dreaming?" I ask against her mouth. She pulls back a little at that, breathing heavily, and pinches the back of my neck. I hiss in pain, grinning an instant later. "Guess not."

"Guess not," she repeats. She leans in and kisses me again.

This is happening. I pull back, staring at her in wonder. "We're getting married?"

"Looks like it," she confirms. A weird look comes over her face and she stiffens a little against me. "You can still change your mind if you want to."

"Not on your life," I answer. "I'm never letting you go again."

She grins again, tightening her grip on me. "Just so you know, I love you, too."

All I can do is kiss her.


	2. Chapter 2

December 24, 2:36 pm

Of all the ways I pictured spending Christmas Eve this year, sitting in a courthouse was not one of them.

I rest my elbows on my knees and let out a long, quiet sigh.

How do I get myself into these situations?

December 24, 5:18 am

I'm not entirely sure how long I've been staring at the ceiling. Maybe close to an hour? Everything around me is dark and quiet.

I keep myself very still, partially hoping it'll help me get back to sleep, but mostly so I don't disturb the body lying next to mine.

I feel a puff of air hit my shoulder and I turn my head a fraction, mostly looking out the corner of my eye. Josh's face is so close to mine that I almost have to go cross-eyed to see him. He looks like he's sleeping peacefully. Well, at least one of us is.

I resume my staring contest with the ceiling, my mind racing. What the hell happened last night? What have I done?

I can't help but feel fairly disgusted with myself. I broke up with a very nice man all because Josh Lyman kissed me once out of desperation. Granted, that was after he proposed to me, but it was still…impulsive.

I didn't _just_ break up with Jack—I flew out there on a news helicopter, told a very nice man that I couldn't see him anymore, and flew back. Unfortunately for me, it wasn't a direct flight back—I was lucky they were willing to take me at all—and wound up more or less circling the DMV area for a few hours. It was plenty of time for me to work myself into a mental tizzy and completely freak out. I'd broken up with Jack for what seemed to be no good reason, and to what end? So that Josh wouldn't have to deal with me dating another man, even though Josh has no real claim on me? I broke up with a nice guy on the off chance that Josh Lyman wasn't being a jealous twit and trying with all his might to keep me around DC for a few more hours of work?

Maybe I'm insane.

Another puff of air hits my neck, an arm tightens over my waist, and Josh's warm body presses against mine.

No—I'm definitely insane.

Showing up at his apartment in the middle of the night to confront him, to tell him what an idiot he is, to…get him to propose to me again. What the hell is wrong with me?

I can't marry Josh! I definitely can't _impulsively_ marry Josh. I'm his assistant for crying out loud—there has got to be at least a dozen different policies at work that state how definitively I _can't_ marry my boss. Then again, I'm sure there are a few policies that say I'm not supposed to have sex with my boss, either, but that didn't stop me from doing that last night.

Twice.

I feel my cheek twitch, a smile pulling at the corner of my mouth. Admittedly, that part was pretty amazing. It definitely wasn't like this with Jack. Again, Jack is nice—he's nice in just about every way possible. Even in bed. But nice isn't always terribly interesting. Even the first time we slept together I wouldn't go so far as to say there were fireworks. Maybe more like a bottle rocket. But that's okay. Sex is not always going to be mind-blowing.

Except it was with Josh. I don't know how, but being with him was actually amazing. I've never felt so filled with anticipation and nerves but somehow comforted and safe at the same time. It was intense and also somehow not. I felt loved, though; utterly and completely loved. Maybe it had to do with the impulsiveness of the whole situation, and hearing Josh tell me he loves me and asking me to marry him and deciding at the last minute to break up with my new boyfriend and fly back into town…emotions were running high. The whole experience was elevated for sure.

I sigh as I realize this isn't going to work. It can't work. Josh and I aren't meant to be. Sadness washes through me, making my insides ache. This was such a stupid, impulsive thing to do, and it's going to ruin everything. We won't be able to work together after this. I don't know if I'll be able to look at Josh again after last night. It's so humiliating to be so easy that an off-the-cuff proposal from someone I'm not even dating is all I need to drop everything else in my life.

He's going to wake up soon and he might try to be polite, but he's probably going to retreat to the other side of the bed, getting as far away from me as he can. He's going to look at me with pity because my big secret is out—I'm in love with Josh Lyman. He's going to be able to play it all off, claiming to have been swept away in the romance of the moment or to have been concerned about me spending the holiday with someone I barely know, but I'm not going to be able to talk my way out of this one. I flew off in a helicopter _and then came back_. There's only one explanation for that.

A tear prickles the corner of my eye and I turn my head a little, taking in his face. He looks so sweet as he sleeps. All the lines have smoothed out, making him look years younger. His hair is a giant mass of unruly locks. He's beautiful and I wish—oh, how I wish—that I could stay here with him forever. I wish I could be his wife and that we could figure this all out together.

Very slowly, I lift the arm that's draped over my stomach, keeping an eye on him to make sure he doesn't wake. His breathing stays deep and even. My heart lodges in my throat, making it hard to swallow, and I have to look away from him. I ease my way to the edge of the bed, at the last second grabbing the pillow I'd been using and putting his arm on it so he won't notice I'm missing. I take a deep breath as I plant my feet on the floor, forcing myself to stand. The room is dark but I can sort of make out the trail of clothing we left from the door to the bed. I cringe and grab all of it, walking into the bathroom. I close the door before I turn on the light, catching a brief glimpse of myself in the mirror before I have to look away. My face looks like the world is going to end. Hell, maybe it is.

I sort through the clothes and dress as quickly as possible; my bra is missing and I can't imagine where it's gone to, and I don't think I can poke around Josh's bedroom to find out. All I can do is hope he doesn't feel the need to try to return it to me at some point.

I sigh as I realize my shoes are still in his room. I thought I might be able to get out of here without any issue and save us both from the potential awkwardness of it all, bypassing his bedroom completely but, of course, no luck. I turn off the bathroom light and pause for a few moments, breathing deeply. My insides ache. I feel tears well in my eyes and I lean my head against the door, trying to get myself under control. In a perfect world, this morning should be one of the most amazing of my life. Technically, I'm engaged to the man I love with my entire being. It should be cause for celebration. We should already be discussing how big or small of a ceremony we want, or what to do on our honeymoon, or if we're going to live at Josh's place or find a cute little townhouse somewhere. That's what normal people would be doing.

We are anything but normal. We work in the public eye. Our pictures are in the news all the time—well, Josh's more than mine, of course—and even if there was a tiny part of him that thought getting married to me was a good idea, the absolute PR nightmare this would be is something that will hit him soon. He'll realize just how colossal of a mistake this is and…I'm sure I'll have to find a new job because there just won't be any way to face him after this.

I take a few more deep breaths and force myself to stand up straight. I can't be a coward now. I got myself into this; I can certainly get out of it. If I'm lucky, Josh will still be dead to the world and I'll be able to grab my shoes and my duffle bag and get out of here before he's at all the wiser.

Damn—I should probably leave him a note or something. Just in case he doesn't immediately realize that last night shouldn't have happened and tries to come running after me in another huge, romantic gesture, he should know that I'm not going to hold any of this against him and that I just want to try to move on. I don't know how I'm supposed to get through a note like that without bawling my eyes out, but I suppose I have to try.

I pull open the door carefully, trying not to make any noise, and tiptoe back into the bedroom. I squint as my eyes try to adjust to the dark again, shuffling around for my shoes. I would assume they were one of the first things taken off last night, but they really could be anywhere.

"Morning," a low, gravelly voice says, and I gasp, clapping my hand over my mouth. Josh chuckles quietly, the bed creaking a little as he shifts. "Your spot is still warm; get back in here."

He's starting to come into focus in the dark morning, though his features are still lost.

"Josh…" I whisper, unable to get out more.

"Come back to bed, Donna," he says softly, his voice warm and sleepy.

"I…I…"

The bed creaks again and I can see him sit up. A second later one of the little lamps clicks on and Josh comes completely into view, looking more perfect than I remember from last night. The blankets rest low on his hips, his beautiful chest glowing warm in the soft light. His hair is sticking up in more directions than even just a few minutes ago, making him look every inch like a sleepy toddler. He frowns as he looks at me. "Where are you going?" I can't answer him. I try—my mouth even opens and shuts a few times—but nothing comes out. "Donna, where are you going?"

I shrug, looking around for my shoes, kicking one out from almost under the bed. "I need to go."

"Go where?"

I give up trying to shove my foot in my shoe while standing and squat down, pulling it on awkwardly and feeling around under the bed for the other. Fortunately, it hadn't gotten far from its mate and I pull that one on, too. "Home."

"I thought _this_ was home."

I look up at him sharply; he's moved over to the edge of the bed closest to me. His expression is pained and confused. Now that he mentions it, I think I vaguely recall saying something last night to the effect that wherever he is is my home. "This was a bad idea," I finally answer.

His eyes grow wide, his face panicked. " _What?!_ "

I shake my head. "I shouldn't have come here last night."

He launches himself off the bed, standing before me, and I do my absolute best to ignore the fact that he's completely naked. "What are you talking about?"

"Josh," I answer slowly, standing up so we're face to face. "You know as well as I do that this is all a fantasy. We can't work out like this."

"So…you _don't_ love me?" I feel like I'm being punched in the heart. How am I supposed to answer that? "I thought…I thought that's why you came back. Because you love me."

"Josh, of _course_ I love you. There's no point in denying it now, but I know you only said the things you said last night out of…desperation. I know you didn't want me to go with Jack. Last night was a fluke—a beautiful, amazing fluke—I'm not going to hold it against you, and I'm not going to hold you to it. You don't really want to marry me. I know that. I just wanted to save us both from having this discussion this morning so I thought I'd just go." I think I can literally feel my heart breaking. "Last night was incredible in so many different ways, but we both know this isn't going to work. It's okay. It was a nice fantasy, though." No—I can _definitely_ feel my heart breaking. "Thank you for it. I know we're probably not going to be able to work together much longer after this, but I want us to try to be professional. We can do that, right? You'll forgive me for being so gullible and silly, and I'll try to move on with my life."

He stares at me in shock for a few long moments before he shivers a little. He maneuvers around me, watching me as he goes to his dresser. He pulls on clothes quickly, not even paying attention to what he's wearing just to make sure I'm not going to disappear suddenly. Given the circumstances, I don't know that I blame him.

"Donna, what the hell are you talking about?"

I look at him incredulously. "Everything that happened last night. I know you didn't propose to me because you actually want to marry me—"

"The hell I didn't!" He hurries back over to me, taking my hands in his. "Donna, I've asked exactly one woman to marry me in my life, and it certainly wasn't some misguided attempt to keep you from spending the next few days with Jack. Do you really think I would tell you I love you and ask you to marry me only to regret it the next morning?"

That's pretty much exactly what I thought. "Josh, I know it was impulsive—"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I didn't mean it! I asked you to marry me because I want to spend the rest of my life with you, because I suddenly knew that being your husband was really all I want in life. I love my job and all but it's nothing without you."

Tears fill my eyes again and I blink them back furiously. My heart flutters like a butterfly trapped in a bottle. "How can we possibly make this work? You can't be married to your assistant. How would that look?"

"You think I care about optics?" he asks, his eyes wide. "Donna, I don't care about how it looks, I just want to be with you forever. I didn't tell you that I love you to keep you around for the holidays; I told you because I suddenly realized that I _had_ to. I couldn't not say it. Now, if _you_ don't want to get married to me…" His voice trails off and he winces, looking heartbroken. "If you don't, I won't be mad. It's okay. I know I did kind of spring it on you last night and if you answered impulsively…if you aren't ready to say yes…I'll get it."

I can't handle the look on his face right now. He looks so lost and sad, and I can't help but feel shocked. He really does want this? He wants to be married to me? I can't wrap my mind around this. "I want it, Josh. I want it all. I want to be your wife. I think that much is blatantly obvious from last night. I just thought…you...I don't know. I just figured you didn't really mean it."

Hope starts to creep into his face. "I meant it. I _mean_ it. I mean it with every fiber of my being. Maybe I could have found a better way to say it all, but I do mean it. I want to be with you. I don't think I can go back to the way things were after last night. We'll figure out the politics and everything else as we go, but I don't think we should let that stop us from being happy."

I tighten my fingers around his, stepping closer. "Are you sure?"

He only leans in, pressing his mouth to mine. It's the first time we've kissed since last night, and I'd already forgotten how wonderful it feels. It's like coming home, only it's a brand new home that I've never seen before. It's right and perfect and familiar and completely foreign. I think I could kiss him forever. When he finally pulls away, he presses his forehead to mine. I can feel our chests heaving in tandem. "I love you, Donna," he whispers. My heart flutters wildly. "I love you so much I can't see straight. Please tell me you still want to marry me. I…I need you."

"I'll marry you," I answer softly. "It's crazy and reckless and maybe the dumbest decision either of us have ever made, but I'll marry you."

"And they say romance is dead." He picks his head up, grinning at me. He wraps me in his arms a moment later, nearly lifting me off the ground. My insides feel light. This enormous weight has suddenly lifted off my shoulders. He really wants to do this. It's beyond insane. I want to do it, though. I want to get married to Josh. I love him so much that I can't imagine why I've been wasting my time with anyone else. This is where I'm meant to be. "Sorry I don't have a ring for you."

"I don't need a ring," I answer, pressing my face into his neck.

"I'll get you one, I promise."

"It doesn't matter. Honestly. The ring doesn't matter to me—I just want to be married to you."

His arms tighten around me. "I'm never letting you go again."

"Me neither," I tell him, squeezing him in response. There's no doubt this is going to be hard, but I don't care. We're locked in for good. "I'm going to make you talk about every feeling you have."

He laughs, his body shaking. "Is that a threat or a promise?"

I laugh, too, planting a kiss on his neck before I look up at him again. "Yes."

He grins, leaning down to kiss me. I stroke his cheek, marveling at the odd familiarity of it all. "Hey—you want to do something else impulsive?" he asks, waggling his eyebrows.

I can imagine where he's going with this. "Like what?"

"Let's get married today."

It's a good thing he has his arms around me because my entire body goes limp. "What?"

"I think you heard me."

"You want to get married…today?"

"Yeah. Why wait? Do we need to know each other better? Do we need to find out if we're compatible? We could spend months planning a wedding, or we could just do it now and be married—"

"Yes!" I exclaim, joy filling every corner of my being. "I mean, can we? Isn't there a waiting period or something?"

He looks stunned that I've agreed so quickly. "Not in Virginia, actually; all we need are IDs and our parents' full names, and Social Security numbers."

"We could really go and get a marriage license and get married today? Do you really think we'll find an available judge or justice of the peace?"

"Hey, they have to work, too. We can call around first, if you want, make sure we'll be able to get in. Otherwise, I guess I can wait until after Christmas." He makes a face as the date hits him. "Do you mind getting married on Christmas Eve? I didn't think what day it is, so if you want to wait—"

"I don't want to wait."

"Are you sure? Because just a few minutes ago you were ready to sneak out of here without a word."

I scrunch up my nose but tighten my arms around him. "I don't want to wait. I want to do this before either of us really starts to comprehend how nuts this whole thing is."

He grins from ear to ear, hugging me again. "I'll start making calls now. Or, well, in a couple of hours, I guess, when people get to work. It's still kinda early, isn't it?"

"For the rest of the world, yes. For us, no, it's pretty normal." I take a step back and cup his face in my hands, making sure I can see his eyes. "You're sure about this, right? This really isn't a kneejerk reaction to my going away with—"

"I'm positive. Maybe it's kneejerk in a technical sense, but it's absolutely the best decision I've made in years. This is what we should do."

I study his face for a few moments, but he looks completely at ease. More at ease than I've seen him in a long time, in fact. "Okay," I whisper, leaning up to kiss him. "So, what do you think we should do to pass a couple of hours?"

He grins, kissing me again.

December 24, 2:41pm

We actually had to make an appointment at a courthouse. It seems that Christmas Eve is actually a popular day for weddings and elopements, and even though appointments are taken on a first come, first served basis, Josh and I fell asleep again after another extraordinarily satisfying round of sex, so we had to settle for later in the day. Our appointment was at two, but everything seems to be running behind and we're still waiting.

After we made the appointment to get married in Prince William County, which felt close enough that making the trek wouldn't be a big deal, but just far enough outside of DC that someone recognizing Josh wouldn't be terribly likely, we decided to make a thing out of it. We got cleaned up and then went to a jewelry store to find wedding bands that we may or may not be able to wear at work. We both liked the idea of exchanging them, though, so no matter how this plays out at the White House, at least we'll have the rings. Josh packed up a suit to wear for the ceremony, and we had to make a stop at a bridal store so I could find something off the rack at the last minute. Josh wouldn't come in with me, suddenly insisting that he couldn't see it beforehand.

That's how I've been waiting by myself in a wedding dress in a courthouse hallway for close to an hour. Josh is just around the corner, at least last I knew. I'm getting paranoid at this point. Everything has happened so fast that it's really easy to convince myself that all of this has been going on in my head.

I sigh and sit up straight, trying to smooth out the simple floor length gown I found. It's lovely and elegant and something I might be able to get away with at an inaugural ball if need be. The worst part was that I had to change in the bathroom stall, an experience I'm not eager to relive any time soon.

Actually getting the license took no time at all, oddly, but getting someone to perform the ceremony is the part that's taking forever. I'm sure that these things take longer than expected, especially when people show up with friends and family. There's bound to be hugging and crying for some of these things, and maybe people even bring their own vows. It's a wedding, hopefully a once in a lifetime thing. I can understand why it might be a big deal in the moment.

Still, I feel twitchy as all hell. I guess I thought we'd walk in and just be able to get married. All this waiting around is killing me. I stand up and start pacing, trying burn off my nervous energy and warm up at the same time. This dress, while perfect for the occasion and somehow everything I've always wanted even though I never pictured it like this until I found it, isn't entirely appropriate for this time of year. The spaghetti straps and low neckline expose a whole lot of my skin and goosebumps keep popping up all over me.

I just want to be married already! I'm so very ready to start this part of my life with my husband. God, what if he's left? What if he's had too much time to think about this and has split? I'd never recover. I could have managed to get on with my life earlier if I'd left his apartment this morning like I'd planned and we had decided to part ways on cordial terms but this…if we got all the way to the courthouse and paid for the license and he ditches me, I'll break. I'll shatter into a million pieces. I'll—

"Moss/Lyman?"

My head jerks up as I hear someone yell our last names. My heart races. Hopefully, this means he hasn't disappeared. Unless, of course, he didn't bother to tell anyone he was calling the whole thing off. I can't imagine anything worse than turning that corner only to find out I've been jilted.

"Moss/Lyman?"

My hands start to shake. He's gone. I know he's gone. He finally thought this whole thing through and—

"Donna!" he yells, and relief floods through me. He's still here. _He's still here!_ I grab the little bouquet he bought me just before we got here, nearly forgotten on the bench. I take a few moments to smooth down my hair and straighten my dress before I make my way toward Josh.

I turn the corner and for a second I can't find him for the crowd of people milling around waiting for their turn, but then they part like a sea. There he is. His mouth is open, like he was going to yell for me again, but I can see him freeze. His face goes slack as I walk toward him, and maybe I'm imagining it, but I'd swear his eyes get a little misty. I reach out my hand and he grabs on, fingers automatically twining through mine and we stop to smile at each other for a few seconds.

"Wow," he breathes. "You look incredible."

"So do you," I answer. He does. He looks utterly delicious in his best suit, the one I've only seen him wear once since he bought it. "Last chance to back out."

"Not on your life." He leans in, giving me a quick kiss, and tugs my arm. "C'mon. Let's get married."

And we do.


End file.
